Fragile Chaos

by Amber R. Duell

  “I did try to warn you,” Goran says with flushed cheeks.

  I glare at him. “I’m still alive.”

  “Lucky for you,” he says. “Follow me. We’ll get you something to eat.”

  With Theo gone, a chill sets into my bones and my stomach rolls with nerves. “I’m not hungry.”

  Goran looks at me with newfound pity. “You should try to eat something. It will help.”

  “It won’t.”

  I storm past him to the third floor and back into my cluttered room. Slamming the door behind me, I jump onto the massive bed and curl up under the musty covers. One word. Nothing. That’s all it took to allow the wolves to keep gnawing on the bones of their prey. Kisk will disappear, swallowed up by the war’s victor, and I let it happen. The truth of it scares me. This isn’t me. This isn’t the person I was brought up to be.

  But that was before. This is now.

  When the tears I was sure would come don’t, I sit up and concentrate on the steady thump, thump, thump of my heart. The room seems clearer despite the grime-coated light on the ceiling. The sense of calm that took me when Theo studied my face returns, stronger than before, and I pull it close.

  Just because Kisk won’t benefit from my death doesn’t mean I can’t. Life doesn’t have to be bad here. It won’t be any less lonely and, on the plus side, there’s no threat of war. A threat of Theo, maybe, but I can handle one person. It shouldn’t be hard to avoid him in a house this big. And one day, when I’ve been here long enough, maybe we can even be friends.

  The door creaks open and I draw a fast breath. Specks of dust rise to dance with the shift of air and Goran peeks inside.

  “Are you all right?” he asks.

  “Never better,” I mumble.

  He pushes into the room carrying a silver tray with bacon, eggs, and something bright yellow that resembles oatmeal. “Don’t worry, I’ll leave you alone. But you’ll want this. We may not have to eat, but it takes our bodies awhile to realize that. One transition at a time is enough.”

  My stomach growls as the smell hits my nose. I offer him a small smile. “Thanks.”

  He hurries to set the tray on the foot of the bed like he’s afraid I’ll change my mind. “There’s a bathroom on the second floor if you want to wash up. Third door down. Theo spends most of his time in the war room these days, so don’t worry about running into him if you want to look around. There are woods behind the Wall with a nice brook if you enjoy the outdoors.”

  “Goran?”

  He steps back and scratches his chin. “Yes?”

  I study him. He’s older than I am, mid-twenties maybe, but as awkward as any of the boys I used to know. I wonder how long he’s been here and how old he was when he arrived. Will I be frozen in time like I am now? Exhaustion tugs at my center and I don’t have the energy to ask. “I don’t know how to do this.”

  “We’ll fumble our way through it. Carefully,” he adds. “I’d rather not have to clean you off the floor.”

  I jolt.

  “Sorry, bad joke.” He takes a deep breath and backs toward the door with his hands raised. “Like I was saying, feel free to explore anywhere you’d like, but would you mind holding off until I come back?”

  Not a prisoner, huh? “Why?”

  Goran fidgets with his sleeves. “We’re expecting a visitor. It’s best if he doesn’t know you’re here yet.”

  “Why?” I ask again.

  “Trust me, it is.” He steps into the hall and looks to the left. “No matter what you hear, don’t leave this room.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “What exactly am I going to hear?”

  “I don’t know. Theodric isn’t in the best mood.”

  No kidding. “Fine.” I grab a thick strip of bacon from the plate, the grease hot between my fingers. “But in exchange, I want something else to wear.”

  He flashes me a quick smile. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Two hours later, after I’ve counted every round medallion on the wallpaper, masculine voices slice through the stillness of the mansion. A door slams at the front of the house and I press my ear to the wall. Only silence rings back. I rock onto my heels. So much for hearing anything interesting.

  Then muffled shouts begin.

  My eyes flick to the dull silver doorknob. Whatever is going on is none of my business. I should stay put like Goran said, and try to get comfortable. But there are a lot of things I should have done in my life—learned how to build a fire, told my parents I loved them more often, stayed far away from the temple. I’m fairly certain eavesdropping on a god doesn’t fall into that category.

  I chew my bottom lip, and slip into the hallway anyway. Goran underestimates me if he thinks, after seventeen months spent avoiding an array of enemies, I haven’t gained some degree of stealth.

  Then again, the zealots caught me without much trouble.

  I wince at the memory of being dragged up the hill. At the weight of being held down, and the bitter taste of the robana bean. But this is different. This time I know the danger lurking around me.

  The iron steps are cool beneath my feet as I slink to the first floor. With a quick glance around the entryway, I hitch my skirt above my knees, and sprint toward the back of the mansion where the commotion is. A statue of an armored horse is tucked around the corner. I squeeze behind it to gain my bearings, the stirrup pressing into my stomach.

  A door is cracked a few feet away, allowing the shouts to escape unchecked. Their voices are clear, but the language, however, is not. The sound is ancient and crude, almost as if they’re grinding rocks with their teeth.

  I creep closer. Theo stands behind a wide table. A man with the same nose and blue eyes leans his knuckles on the polished wood across from him. He’s handsome in a different way than Theo—less rugged and more untouchable. A threatening fierceness lies within him, brimming, ready to boil over.

  Theo speaks again, and I catch a name at the end of his gritty sentence: Ebris. King of the Gods. I draw in a deep breath, and release it slowly.

  Ebris’ reply is almost a growl, and Theo stiffens. Before he can respond, the desk splinters beneath his brother’s fingers. The series of cracks sets my hair on end. I flatten my back against the wall, willing myself to disappear. Ebris hadn’t moved a muscle. The desk was simply in one piece, and then it wasn’t.

  “We understand,” Goran says from inside.

  Silence fills the room, a rubber band stretched to its breaking point. I was wrong to think there was no chance of war here; another kind of battle is brewing before me. I can’t be caught spying on them. Being on one god’s bad side is one too many.

  I race back to the stairs, and make it to the second floor before footsteps echo below. I double my efforts, taking the steps two at a time, using the railing to help propel myself forward. The front door bangs shut, and my body jerks to a halt on the third floor landing.

  “He’s lucky I didn’t run him through,” Theo snarls.

  “How do you plan to appease him this time?” Goran asks.

  Somehow, the idea of Theo appeasing anyone is laughable, but I still hold my breath in anticipation of his answer.

  “After that?” Theo is quiet for a beat. “I’m done appeasing my brother.”

  “What?”

  There’s a short pause before Theo says, “Find me a new table.”

  “Theodric, don’t walk away,” Goran calls. “Please. We have to do something.”

  But there’s no reply. After a moment, hard-soled boots clap against the stairs. My pulse leaps into overdrive, and I throw myself into the bedroom. The door shuts with a soft click. I run my hands over my hair and dress, smoothing everything into place, but there’s no time to regain control of my breathing before the knock comes. Even expecting it, the gentle tap sends me straight into the air.

  “Our visitor is gone. You can come out whenever you’d like,” Goran says from the hall.

  “Okay.” I clear my throat. “Thanks.”

  My
gaze fixates on the shadows of his boots beneath the door, waiting for them to shift, and him to come inside. Instead, they disappear, and my body sags in relief.

  I fall back on the bed, kicking up a cloud of dust. I shield my nose and mouth from the floating particles, and try not to cough. If I’m stuck here, I may as well make this place somewhat habitable. It’s better than chancing a run-in with Theo before he calms down.

  Besides, it appears I have all the time in the world. Waiting a few days to search for a way out of this place won’t make much difference.

  Three days.

  Three days since Cassia told me not to do anything for Kisk.

  Three days since Ebris threw his latest round of threats at me.

  And, three days since I decided there might be something to nothing.

  “It will work out,” I say from a high-backed chair. “We only need to ignore things long enough for Ebris to realize I’m not stoking the flames in the west but keeping the fire under control.”

  Goran pinches the skin at his throat as he stalks across the war room. He turns at the sofa and retraces his steps to the tapestries hanging along the far wall. Gold and silver threads weave through the deep red fabric depicting battles waged long before things fell apart. Before I was forced to wage wars in the crudest manner possible.

  I grind my teeth and run a finger over the map in front of me. The edges are torn, lines faded. Tiny pin holes dot the paper where I plucked it clean last night. A hasty decision I’m sure to regret later when I need to know numbers and positions of soldiers.

  “It will work out,” Goran repeats, eying the stack of unopened reports on the edge of the desk. “So you have a plan to fix this when the war dominos out of control?”

  There’s no plan because there’s no way to know how far things will go before Ebris breaks down and admits he’s wrong. No way to know what the mortals will do when left unsupervised. They’re more than capable of causing destruction without divine intervention. “It won’t,” I say, although it might. “Stop pacing.”

  He ignores me. “This is a dangerous game, Theodric.”

  I shrug. He isn’t wrong. This is a game I never wanted to play, but now that I’m on the board, I have to make my moves.

  “And you lied to Ebris about Cassia.”

  My eye twitches. “I did not.”

  “Letting him believe something that isn’t true is the same thing as a lie.” His laugh holds no humor as he gnaws on the pad of the thumb. “You know he’ll see it that way.”

  “He doesn’t need to know she’s here. I haven’t accepted her in the way I need to for Kisk to be saved.”

  Goran lets out a long, shaky breath. “You can’t hide her forever.”

  “I don’t intend to.” Each sibling received tribute during the ritual—they know what day she arrived. When she doesn’t show up in the Netherworld, Leander will mention it to Ebris. Another week, maybe, then I’ll hear about it. It’s enough time to decide what to do with her.

  “You’re going to end up in the Between,” Goran says.

  I stiffen at the mention of the dark abyss. The endless nothing that threatens to suspend the Gods between realms. None of us have spent time there, but we’ve all come close. The threat is usually enough to put us in check, but I’m tired of cowering. Tired of being the only one with limitations. I know I’m testing boundaries that shouldn’t be tested, but my brother, despite his cruel streak, does care about his family. Even if he tends to forget that at times.

  “Don’t worry. It’ll be fine,” I say.

  Goran glares at me as he makes his way back across the room. “Unless he finds out Cassia’s brother is a Kisken traitor.”

  “Colonel Stavros is nothing more than a scapegoat. If the Volks hadn’t discovered his plan to help Asgya, he would’ve been hailed a hero. Ebris can view it as a reprieve for her. A kindness for all she’s endured since her family was branded villains.”

  That’s not what will happen though. Ebris will insist I accept my obligation to the island. Accepted is accepted, he will say. But the rules are very clear regarding this situation. A bride is only officially a bride after consummation, and I will never let that happen. I exhale and slump in my chair. Loophole or not, I should have killed Cassia when I had the chance.

  But I couldn’t.

  She’s an angry, disrespectful distraction I can’t afford, but she doesn’t want to force my hand. She cared enough to rip a loaf of bread in half for someone who hates her, only to tell me not to help them a day later. She’s a walking contradiction. I can’t help being curious. It’s a mistake to allow my feelings to get in the way, but the same thing that drew my attention at the bonfire is stilling my sword now.

  Goran stops on the other side of the desk and sets his fingertips on the folders. “If you’re not going to read the reports, let me. I won’t tell you what they say unless absolutely necessary.”

  “No.” I bat his hand away. “I won’t have any of the blame falling on you if things go wrong. Someone will need to take care of things here.”

  “I can’t manage three hundred men, plus the hundreds you have scattered all over the world, while keeping any semblance of peace,” he says in a gritty voice.

  I force my lips into a tight smile. “Peace isn’t exactly one of my goals.”

  Goran tugs at his hair. “Are you listening to yourself? I can’t handle a war by myself, either.”

  “You’re overreacting.” I swipe the files into one of the desk drawers before standing. Out of sight, out of mind. “Why don’t you take the day off and go somewhere—somewhere east. Keep away from the war.” I toss him my ring. “If you happen to hear anything, it can’t be helped.”

  “This—”

  “Go.” I wave a hand in his direction and take a deep breath. “Have some fun. Relax.”

  “As you say,” he grumbles.

  When Goran leaves the room, I cross to the window to make sure he heads for the temple. He means well and I know he’s right. I know. But sometimes I think he doesn’t truly understand how much I hate pitting myself against my siblings to maintain control. Deep down he may, but he continues clinging to his values. His portrait of rights and wrongs, colored in black, white, and every shade of gray. His ability to advise what’s right, then, when I disagree, advise what’s necessary, makes him valuable. It can also make him extremely irritating.

  My shoulders relax when he passes through the arch in the Wall. One more day. What can happen if I turn a blind eye for another twenty-four hours? Forty-eight tops. It won’t be more than a week before Ebris sees the truth.

  A flash of white flutters in front of the turret beside my window. I twist my head a moment too late and it lands out of sight, kicking a small puff of gravel dust into the air. Two men rush from the Wall and I grip the windowsill.

  She wouldn’t…Would she?

  I bolt from the room and up the staircase to the third floor with a knot in my stomach. If Cassia’s room is empty, I’ll know the answer. I don’t need to see the carnage of her attempted suicide. I take a deep breath and force my feet to advance toward the open door at the end of the hall. My steps echo through the dusty corridor and I concentrate on the harsh jingle of boot buckles until I reach her room.

  A low creak sounds from inside followed by a crash that vibrates the planked floor. I sprint over the threshold and my shoulders slump. She’s here. Alive. Wearing the awful gauze dress with a deep red stain at the collar. She kneels on a mountain of forgotten furniture, her arms braced against the ceiling. She skews her lips and blows at a piece of hair hanging in her face. While assessing the pile beneath her, she eases off her knees and onto her toes. The pile creaks again.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  She stumbles and grabs the leg of a table for support. “Theo,” she breathes. Her gaze darts down to the sword at my hip. “You scared me.”

  “I scared you?” I step over the wooden debris of whatever fell a moment ago. An old trunk, maybe. It�
��s in a dozen splintered pieces now. “I thought you jumped out the window. Now I find you trying to bury yourself in an avalanche of junk.”

  She frowns. “Why did you think I jumped out the window?”

  The table she stands on wobbles and my chest tightens. “Come down from there. You’re going to hurt yourself.” I lift my arms to catch her.

  “Most likely.” She continues to glare at my hip. “But I have a better chance of staying in one piece up here than I do down there.”

  Stupid, foolish girl. I drop my hands and work the buckle at my waist. The scabbard falls away. I step back, leaning it against the wall, and raise my hands away from my sides. “Satisfied?”

  Her nod is tight, resigned. She doesn’t look at me when I offer my hands but she carefully sets her palms against mine. The table slides back and I yank her toward me before she can go with it. She collides against my chest. My breathing hitches. Each place her body touches mine feels as if it’s exploding. I push her away, stepping back at the same time, and drag in a breath. I roll my shoulders against the discomfort raging through me.

  “What were you thinking?” I snap.

  “I was thinking I don’t want to sleep in a storage closet anymore,” she snaps back. “I couldn’t pull anything from the bottom without the whole pile falling on top of me.”

  I glance down at the ruined trunk. “That could’ve been you.”

  She crossed her arms, her eyebrows lifted. A splash of pink rises in her cheeks. “What do you care?”

  “You can’t die here. Not unless I kill you myself.” The words fall from my mouth before I can stop them. She’ll heal but it won’t be painless. For her or me, because it will be my fault if she tries to hurt herself. Maybe for keeping her here, maybe for not keeping her here the right way. This entire situation is over my head. I know I’m not doing it right—I’m just not sure how I’m doing it wrong.

  “Then why would it matter?” She nods to the open window, a spark of curiosity on her face.

  I glare at her as she brushes the dust from her hands. My stomach clenches at the sight of the cut on her neck. It would have healed by now if it had come from anyone but me. “You can still get hurt,” I say. “And it’s my job to protect my sacrifices.”